


Drawn feelings

by ca_te



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Prompt Fic, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-17
Updated: 2011-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-14 20:23:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ca_te/pseuds/ca_te
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written to fill this prompt: Arthur is infatuated with the guy who is always on the same bus every morning; sat across from him, sketching. One day Merlin rushing off the bus forgets his sketchbook, Arthur discovers they're all drawings of him.....<br/>Don't mind where it leads :) Though would love initially freaked out Arthur and angry/embarrassed Merlin!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drawn feelings

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta-ed so sorry for eventual mistakes. Comments are loved :)

The sky is clearer today, Arthur thinks, as he looks up at the white line that an airplane has left behind. Once when he was little he wanted to be a pilot, as his grandfather had been, but in the end it was just a childish dream, one of those which life makes you put away in a drawer. He shuffles his feet against the concrete of the sidewalk and whistles the song which he has heard while having breakfast. His father always switches on the radio to hear the news and leaves it switched on. Arthur has always had breakfast alone in the morning since when his mother died. He was eight years old back then.  
The bus stops in front of him and the creaking of the brakes fills up his ears. He goes straight to the upper floor as always, and sits in the front, where the street lights and the road signs seem to arrive straight into his face. He likes to think that it’s more thrilling like this. There’s actually another reason to it, even though Arthur doesn’t like to admit it even to himself.

*

It was a rainy day in December, the first time that Arthur saw him. He couldn’t probably say why he noticed him, and why he felt so attracted to him from the very beginning. He was just a guy, sitting on a bus seat near the window. He had short dark hair, so black that they made Arthur think about ink. He had something which looked like a notebook on his knees and was biting the top of a pencil. He seemed somehow out of place there, brows furrowed in concentration as people on the bus were talking, listening to music or chatting on the phone. Arthur hadn’t realized that he was staring at the other guy till their gazes had met over the shopping bags and the scarves of the people standing between them. The guy had tilted his head to the side, Arthur had gulped down air at the sight of a pair of dark blue eyes. He had lowered his gaze and had focused his attention on his knees. Still the presence of the other guy had been tugging at him, like a magnet. It had been an unusual sensation, it had made Arthur’s head spin.

The bus had stopped and Arthur had cautiously lifted his head, he couldn’t see the guy behind the backs of the people moving to get off the bus. He had swallowed and, gathering all of his courage, he had gotten up and moved through the bus. But when he had managed to reach the seat the guy was no longer there. Arthur had tried to convince himself that what he was feeling was not disappointment nor sadness. For God’s sake! He didn’t even know that guy! The memory of those blue eyes, of the morning light sliding over the black of his hair had accompanied Arthur during all the day, but at night, lying in his bed, he had decided that that was ridiculous and that he had to stop it.  
The morning after the guy was there again, sitting with his knees up. Something lurched inside Arthur’s stomach. Coincidences had always taken him aback. He passed a hand through his hair, closed his eyes and then opened them again. The boy was still sitting there, and he was looking at him. As soon as he realized that Arthur was looking back at him, he averted his gaze, a light shade of pink colouring his cheeks. Arthur focused his attention on the boy’s pencil, moving elegantly over the notebook. He wondered what he could be drawing. When Arthur got off the bus that morning he thought that presumably that had been the last time he would see him. He couldn’t think to have the chance to meet him again, in such a big city as London.  
But then it had happened again and again. Every time the boy would seat on the bus, his notebook on his knees. Every time their gazes would dance across the people standing between them. Arthur started to go out in the morning feeling something light in his heart at the thought that he would see him.

*

Arthur looks at the street lamps passing outside and the sensation of vertigo which seeing them almost crashing against him mixes up with the lightness of heart which blossoms inside him as he sees the other boy’s face reflected by the glass of the window. He is drawing, gently chewing his lower lip. Arthur finds himself wondering how those lips could taste. He can feel his cheeks becoming hotter and shakes his head.  
He already knows that the boy is going to get off at the stop just before his. He steals a few more gazes, lets his eyes take in more of those hair, of those ridiculous pretty ears. He looks at the windows of the houses outside as the boy gets up and moves towards the door. Arthur thinks that he surely his bony, it makes him want to let his fingers slide along his spine, counting out the vertebras.  
He looks as the boy descends the stairs until he can no longer spot him. He sighs and gets up. Passing by he can’t help but throw a glance at the seat which now is empty. And then he notices it, the notebook. Without a second thought he leans forward and grabs it.  
Outside it’s starting to rain, the typical cold London rain, and Arthur has to hide the notebook under his jacket to protect it.

It’s only when he is back at home that he can have a proper look at it. The notebook itself is quite thin, but there are other sheets of paper stuck in between the pages. Some of them have ruined borders, some of them have squares on them and some have clearly been taken from an agenda.  
On the first page the boy has written his name and address. The handwriting is slightly tilted to the side and is somehow elegant. The first drawings are of random people or objects. Arthur thinks that the lines are precise and gentle at the same time. He imagines the boy’s face, concentrated and oh, so beautiful. And really he doesn’t even understand from where that came out, because he hasn’t even spoken to him yet! He flips a page and something in his mind derails. He stares at the page and blinks, once, twice. He swallows and turns another page and another and another. Looking at him from the white of the pages there are all portraits of him. It’s weird to see his features blocked in graphite lines, and something warm bubbles in his stomach at the idea that the black-haired boy liked him enough to draw him, to fill half of the notebook with sketches of him.  
He lets his fingers slide over the images, the paper is coarse against his skin. He founds himself thinking that the boy’s hands have touched the same spots. He knows that it’s a silly thought, but he can’t help it. He flips back through the pages until he reaches the first one.  
Merlin. He smiles as he lets the name roll over his tongue.

It’s definitely more difficult when the moment to call him comes. Arthur stands in front of his room’s windows. Outside the sky is already dark and the moon seems a pale slice of lemon. He sighs and presses the numbers. A woman answers, her voice is calm and gentle.  
“Hello?”  
“Ehm…hello. I’m a friend of…Merlin. Is he at home?”  
Arthur swallows, feeling like an idiot.  
“Oh…alright, what’s your name?”  
“Arthur…”  
He hopes that Merlin will come at the phone anyways, even though they obviously don’t know each other.  
“Hello?”  
It’s the first time that he hears the boy’s voice. It sounds somehow fresh, not too high and not too low. Arthur thinks that the best adjective to describe it is soft. Arthur clears his throat.  
“Hi…I’m sorry to disturb you, but…”  
“Who’re you?”  
He sounds like a small scared animal. Arthur wonders how he should answer. He surely cannot say that he is the guy Merlin has been drawing during the last month.  
“I just happened to find a notebook with your name on it on the bus.”  
He hears a sharp inhale of air.  
“Oh.”  
“I…imagine that you’d want it back. Is there a place where we can meet?”  
He tries to imagine Merlin’s face, but he can’t; the only picture in his head is the one of Merlin biting is lower lip as he draws.  
“Would it be alright to meet in front of South Kensington library tomorrow at 15 o’ clock?”  
Arthur tilts his head to the side.  
“Sure. I can give you my mobile number so that if there’s any problem you can call me.”  
“Oh, alright…”  
Arthur tells him his number, then Merlin puts down the phone. Arthur remains silent, listening to the tu tu tu of the line for a little while.

________________________________________________________________________________

A subtle rain is falling down, the sound of the drops hitting his umbrella fills Arthur’s ears. He keeps checking his mobile phone, in case Merlin calls. But the phone has been silent and now it’s already a quarter past three. He imagines that probably Merlin would be embarrassed as he is, even though, well Merlin doesn’t know who’s the guy whom he is going to meet. Arthur swallows, trying to picture the other boy’s reaction, and instinctively holds the sketchbook a bit tighter.  
Then he sees him, long and thin, running under the rain. For a moment Arthur wonders how he can make Merlin understand that he is the one who’s found his drawings. But few instants later Merlin is looking straight at him, with rain pouring down from his short hair, which now truly look like ink. Arthur wonders if it’s just him or if something has truly passed between the two of them, between their two bodies standing in front of each other. He can feel something warm curling up inside of his stomach and it takes a moment for him to realise that Merlin is speaking. He quickly shakes his head and motions for Merlin to move under the umbrella.

The boy opens his mouth and closes it again, then moves to stay by Arthur’s side. Arthur notices that Merlin isn’t looking at him, he is looking at his feet and there’s a faint blush colouring his prominent cheekbones. Arthur has to repress the desire to touch them.

“So uhm…”

Merlin’s voice is different when he is not hearing it through a telephone. It’s even softer if possible.

“Is…is it you who found the sketchbook?”

“Yeah…here you are.”

Arthur knows that it is stupid, but he can’t help to be sad at the thought that he is not going to hold that sketchbook any more. In the end it was the only link between him and Merlin. He looks at the other boy as he puts the notebook in his bag and shifts his shoes against the wet pavement.

“Thank you very much. Well, I’ll be going then.”

Arthur remains silent, Merlin turns towards him and nods before starting to walk away. Arthur doesn’t think much about it, he just leans forward and grabs Merlin’s wrist. They look at each other as the rain is pouring down on them. It’s out before he can stop it.

“I’ve looked at the drawings.”

He could see the emotions flickering all over Merlin’s features. His eyes are wide and his cheeks definitely red.

“I…Why have you done it? It wasn’t yours! You shouldn’t have!”

Arthur is taken aback by the force of Merlin’s reaction, by the anger and the sadness hidden in his voice.  
He lets go of Merlin’s wrist and just looks at him.

“I…I’m sorry. I didn’t think it could offend you or…”

“ Well you should have!”

Merlin turns his back to him and runs away. Arthur looks at his feet, letting the rain drip down his hair and soak his clothes. After a few minutes he picks up the umbrella and walks towards home.

_______________________________________________________

 

The week end stretches out lazily and heavily. Arthur knows that he should worry too much; Merlin is not his friend, he’s not even an acquaintance. Still it hurts to have made him run away; it hurts not to be able to reach for him. Arthur takes the bus even though he usually doesn’t take it during the week end, but Merlin is not there. No black hair, no blue eyes.

On Monday morning he waits at the bus stop and tries to stop himself from hoping too much. When the bus arrives he looks through the windows, Merlin is nowhere in sight. He climbs on the upper deck. He quickly spots Merlin. He is sitting in a corner, looking out of the window. He doesn’t have his sketchbook. Arthur takes a deep breath and takes a sit behind him. He waits for Merlin’s stops and follows him out of the bus. He knows that he probably seems a stalker, but the emptiness which he felt during the week end was something strong as few things which he had experienced before. He would never thought that it was possible. He wonders if all those stories about love at first sight might be true.  
As Merlin steps off the bus he turns and sees him. Arthur opens and closes his mouth like a fish without water. Merlin’s brow furrow and he quickly turns around and starts to work. Arthur swallows.

“Please, Merlin, wait!”

He cringes at how desperate he sounded. Probably Merlin has heard that too, because he stops and turns to face him. Arthur walks up to him.

“W-What do you want?”

Arthur feels like reaching out and cup Merlin’s face, but he tries to control himself.

“I…I know that this might sound absurd, but…I don’t want you to be angry with me.”

Something twirls in the blue depths of Merlin’s eyes.

“We…we don’t even know each other, why would you care?”

“I don’t know…”

Arthur can see that Merlin is relaxing a bit, his hands are no longer clenched at his sides.

“But I want to understand…”

Arthur cannot even believe that he is saying this. It all feels so surreal. Merlin tilts his head to the side and slowly comes closer.

“And what do you mean by that?”

Arthur takes in breath and tries to clear his thoughts, pushing aside the desire to simply kiss Merlin there. The more he sees him and hears him speak, the more he feels dragged towards him. It seems some kind of magic.

“I…”

And it’s as if something pushes him, until he stumbles over the edge. He leans forward and before he realises it his lips are pressing against Merlin’s.  
Merlin’s lips are just as soft as Arthur has imagined and they taste of something which is mint and cinnamon. Merlin stays still at first and Arthur starts thinking that he should pull back and just go away. May be he has misunderstood everything, maybe his silly heart has gone crazy. But then he can feel Merlin gently pressing back, his lips moving slowly.  
Arthur doesn’t remember having ever felt like this; as if something is lifting him from the soil, leaving him floating.  
They break the kiss and stare at each other. He can see uncertainty in Merlin’s eyes, but there’s also something else, something warm and shiny. Arthur feels a jolt of happiness at the thought that he has put it there, in Merlin’s irises.

“I…I’ve got to go to work…”

Merlin’s voice is light and he is smiling. Arthur thinks that he is even more beautiful like this. He feels the desire to make Merlin smile like that every day.

“Can…can I see you when tonight?”

Merlin nods.

“I’m going to call you as soon as I finish my shift.”

The air leaves Arthur’s lungs as Merlin hugs him. He hugs him back, his heart beating fast at the contact.

As Arthur waits for the next bus he looks up at sky. There’s an airplane passing over his head and he smiles.


End file.
